


One More Chance XXI

by DancingHare



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingHare/pseuds/DancingHare
Summary: Vajarra seeks answers from the naaru.





	One More Chance XXI

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published August 2, 2008

The naaru did not have any answers for her today. Between her ritual prayers, Vajarra had stolen into a quiet corner and begged for anything, the smallest hint or scrap of meaning that would soothe her. She dared not trouble A’dal with such a thing; his searing light had much more pressing matters to see to than one anchorite’s troubled heart. Instead, Vajarra sought V’eru. She felt a particular affinity for this naaru, initially because of its name — as a child she had been delighted to think that they shared a first letter. But in time she had come to trust V’eru with her secrets, and appreciated its frank nature. V’eru rested within its alcove, its crystalline arms throwing bright sky-blue light onto the walls. As Vajarra approached, its hue shifted subtly, turning to a purple along its edges.

_Hello, child._

Each of them had a different feeling, a particular flavor to their voice, if one were to listen carefully enough. Not many did, but Vajarra had shared her mind with them since she was very small. V’eru’s voice was patient and cool, never hurried and never agitated. Vajarra knelt before the naaru, the light playing patterns over her robe.

She hesitated, before she spoke quietly. “V’eru, I have come to ask your will. Why was my friend taken away?”

V’eru’s color slid darker, the center of the crystalline branches darkening to the color of the deep ocean. She hoped she had not offended it, and it took a long time to answer.  
_  
The path of the Light is not always clear, Vajarra. Patience…_

Vajarra tried not to frown. It’s what the Grand Anchorite had said, too. She was normally a patient person, certainly much moreso than Vassanta, but this time she was finding it difficult. She nodded, her throat unable to find any more words, and was about to rise, when she heard V’eru’s voice in her mind once more.

_Your kindness will not be forgotten, child. This I can promise to you._

She nodded, smiling weakly. At least that was something, though it did not make the pain any less. Lowering her head in a brief prayer, she thanked V’eru and excused herself, walking down the ramp into the main chamber. A man was standing there, bright white in gleaming armor, certainly a Vindicator. It took Vajarra a moment to recognize him, for it had been a great deal of time since they had spoken — and he looked much different here than he had in the dirty streets of Stormwind.

“Anchorite,” he said, lowering his head in a polite bow.

He was the one who was helping her sister, and Vajarra had to admit that thus far, he seemed to be having the most luck of her long string of superiors. Still, Vajarra was uncertain why he would be coming to her. They had spoken in the past, but simply passing conversation, and certainly not recently. Suspicion tugged at the back of her mind, but she tried not to let it into her voice.

“What brings you to the temple, Vindicator?”

They walked along the bridge that led up to the rise, and paused at the terrace that overlooked the chamber below. The old vindicator stroked his tendrils thoughtfully. “Aside from prayer, of course. A matter of some importance, I believe.”

Vajarra could not mask the flash of anger in her expression. Had her sister driven a knife into her back again? “Oh?”

Kestaan laced his fingers. “Regarding your latest… project.”

So she had. Vajarra didn’t know what she had told him, but she’d done nothing wrong. So let him ask, she would answer truthfully. “Istahn?” she asked, watching his expression closely.

“You are too trusting, Vajarra.”

She was surprised, and a little offended, to hear a Vindicator say such things. Her gaze slimmed, and she turned back to him. “Do you not believe in redemption, Vindicator?”

He gave a quiet grunt. “Redemption and deception are two different things. Can you be certain which he was?”

“Can you, Vindicator? Did you ever speak to him?” She struggled to keep her voice even; to keep from shouting at him. Had he too, been bewitched by Vassanta’s silver tongue?

Kestaan did not appear to notice, however, continuing placidly. “He was of the Sunfury, Vajarra, did you know that?”

Vajarra could not have imagined that she would be defending a sin’dorei in such a manner, yet here she was. “So were the Scryers, yet A’dal welcomes them here. Velen trusts them.”

“The wisdom of the Prophet is great, yes. But, you must understand that not all blood elves are like the Scryers. Not all who walk within the safety of these walls walk it with pure intent.” He had gone back to watching the terrace below, no longer meeting her gaze. It was impossible to read his emotion in his expression.

“Whatever his past sins may have been,” Vajarra said evenly, “He was atoning for them now. He had come here to follow the path of the Light, and he was struck down as he took his first steps. Murdered.”

His brows raised at that, and Vajarra had to believe that he didn’t know of it until now. “Murdered, you say?”

“Vassanta ordered it,” she replied. “Whatever he may have done to her or anyone else, he didn’t deserve to die.”

Kestaan grunted, leaning against the handle of his large warhammer. “Retribution is one of the paths of the Light, Vajarra.”

“Yes,” she said, turning to face him again. “But so is forgiveness, Vindicator.”

He sighed quietly, and he sounded tired. “His death was… unexpected, I will admit. But you must not mourn him, Vajarra. For if he truly sought the Light, you know that he shall not know damnation, but the naaru’s embrace.”

Vajarra nodded, feeling her eyes sting a little. She knew it was true, and it was some small reassurance.

“Will you… speak to her?” She glanced over to Kestaan.

He nodded. “I will.” He stood there, in silence, for what seemed like a very long time. “At your earliest convenience, Anchorite, could I ask a favor of you?”

She drew her brows, puzzled. “I will do my best, what is it?”

“I would ask that you meet me in Telredor,” Kestaan said, swinging his warhammer back up onto his shoulder. “There is something there I wish to show you.”

Vajarra could not remember what was in Telredor. Mushrooms, of course. She had been there a few times since she’d returned to Draenor, but she didn’t much like the marsh. Why would he want to show her that? She nodded though, and he bowed low to her before he strode back toward the bridge.


End file.
